We made a pit stop for food and potty at 3:30 a.m. What I saw in the bathroom left me awestruck—men at every sink primping like contestants on the Dating Game. Not a hair out of place. The efforts were almost surgical. Did I mention it was 3:30 a.m.? And me with my single pair of black pants, dusty hiking shoes, and generalized untidy disheveledness. People often sized me up and down as if I were wearing a spacesuit. I could never tell if it was curiosity, mild contempt, or both.

I loitered in the restaurant where a barefoot waiter offered to bring me something. I went with coffee. It soon followed with my receipt…

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